I wake up to the smell of disinfectant raping my nose and the constant beep of machines piercing my ears.

Opening my eyes, everything is painfully bright and uncomfortably fuzzy. Blinking a number of times, things slowly start to focus.

And that's when I freeze as angry brown eyes meet mine. I lie there quietly, wondering what to do.

So naturally my drugged self just studies his face absentmindedly while he glares down at me. His skin is brown, like mine but slightly lighter. His sharp jawline and pink lips with a nicely shaped Cupid's bow. No wonder he can be such a player.

Oh hey, homeboy has damn fine eyebrows.

I'm kind of jealous.

"Who the fuck did that to you?"

I blink out of my daydream, attempting to respond. All that comes out is some sort of incoherent mumble, which makes him even angrier.

In all honesty, I don't even know what I said. I think it may have been somewhere along the lines of 'get me food.'

He's got really nice hair though. It's shorter at the sides, longer at the top, all fluffy with a few golden highlights running through his chocolate coloured hair. It's so soft, I want to lick it, I reminds me of cotton candy.

I want to eat him. He's like a whole mound of chocolate, and he looks so good.

I lick my lips, I'm really hungry now.

I continue watching his lips move at an all too rapid pace as he talks, looking furious.

Really, really, very angry.

Slowly my eyes drift away from his face, staring at the cold white light hanging behind his head- appearing to give him a halo.

The light burns right through my sensitive eyes to the back of my head, providing an acute pain. Then it drags my senses back under the water as everything becomes unclear and it feels like I'm being drowned.

I can hear his muffled voice still spewing words, but my head's bathing in fuzz, and my eyes roll back into my head, as I give out and feel my head collapse back onto the steel wool of a pillow.

•

A snore wakes me up and I jolt up, coughing. That snore originated from me.

I look around, finally regaining clarity of mind, to see a surprised Ethan holding water, looking at me.

I continue staring at him in silence, embarrassed beyond relief, and he begins shaking. He manages to put the glass of water down before dissolving into a fit of laughter directed at me.

"Not everyone wakes up like goddamn Cinderella, you ass," I grumble, my voice raspy and hoarse. I roll over, avoiding eye contact, as I clear my sandpaper throat.

He simply continues cackling with laughter, and manages to gasp out, "But not everyone wakes up sounding like a pig having sex."

I scratch my head, stumped. What would I even say in defence to that?

Leaving the imbecile to his own amusement, I reach over the barriers of the hospital bed for the glass of water poised on the bedside table and snatch it up, chugging it. The feeling of the water cascading down my Sahara desert like oesophagus was utter euphoria, and I had downed the thing within no time.

Slamming the glass back down onto the table, surprised it didn't break, I notice the bandages on my arms. I frown, cocking my head to the side, taking the stark white cloth on my considerably darker skin. I purse my lips, they look weird, feel weird, and I feel weak. Weak because I'm starved, and powerless. Shaking my head in defeat, I place my now empty hands back on the bed, watching them in disdain. I didn't want to have more 'battle scars' as a reminder of what's transpired. I definitely do not want to have to deal with what's going on in my life right now.

Turning back to the now sobered boy, I ask, my voice considerably clearer, "What time is it?"

He blinks, and checks his watch, "11.30."

I turn away from him, looking out the window. It's daytime.

My frown deepens, "And what day is it today?"

"Thursday."

I gasp, and in a second he's next to my side, "What's wrong, are you ok?"

I turn to him, anxiety running though my face, "We're missing school."

Almost instantaneously his scowl returns as he cocks his eyebrow at me, removing his hand from their perch on my shoulder, "Seriously?"

I grin, "No, of course not."

He stares me down, and sighs, "You really are a handful."

My grin widens and I lift up my bandage arms to face him, "Pun intended?"

Ethan looks at me, and walks out the room in response.

Much to my dismay, I giggle at that. I frown as his frame leaves the frame, since when do I impersonate infants in front of people?

Odd.

Seizing the opportunity of being solitary for a moment, I swing my legs over the edge of the prickly bed, and bring myself to my feet.

And fail miserably.

I immediately collapse back down, almost missing the mattress, my head riding rollercoasters.

A low, guttural sound escapes my mouth, cursing myself for all the predicaments I find myself in. If I didn't know any better, I would think I was jinxed.

On second thought, I could be. At least then I'd have something to hold accountable for poor fortune.

Bowing my head, I inhale deeply, rocking on the edge of my bed. Just as I  finally stand up again, this time successfully, I'm pushed back down onto the bed.

"Stop pushing yourself, have some soup."

I never even noticed him walk back in the room.

Staring up at his perfect face, I wonder when this guy transformed into a nanny.

Giving me soup was the nail in the coffin; he's down feather stuffed into a stone, pun intended.

However, I'm not complaining, grabbing the bowl from his outstretched hand and cupping it in my hand.

Using my other hand to hold the spoon, I bring the the stuff to my lips, slurping loudly as I drink it up.

My stomach rumbles in gratification, as I continue my ungracious hogging, stop only once when I feel my tongue being scalded by the molten substance.

I loon up briefly to see Ethan cringe, "Could you perhaps eat in a civilised manner?"

I stick my tongue out at him, and resume eating. My head still feels heavy and groggy, but at least I don't feel as weak as before.

"Must be the sedatives wearing off."

My head shoots up from buried within the bowl, again, "What?"

He gives me a pointed look, "What? They couldn't have you waking up in the middle of pulling out all the glass from your arms, now could they?"

I pause.

"Who did that to you?"

And then it was my turn to shoot him a pointed look, "Who do you think?"

And then the silence lingered for a bit. Though not really, I went back to slurping my soup after a few seconds.

And then he was gone. He walked- stormed- out the door, feet thudding against the floorboards, hands curled up into fists.

I cock my head in confusion, why does this matter so much to him? Moreover, what would he even do about it?

I ponder over an unreasonably large gulp of soup, swallowing everything left  in the bowl in one fluid movement.

Though I fail at swallowing part, and accidentally inhale a piece of chicken.

Placing the bowl in between my legs, I begin hacking up a lung. Talk about even the most valued things in my life betraying me.

No, not swallowing, food.

While distracted by my coughing fit, I don't notice a significantly smaller frame to Ethan's rush to my side. What I do notice is her hand tapping my back, the other one placed on my shoulder.

She continues rubbing my back, until a few seconds later my trachea is cleared again.

Grateful for not dying from being pathetically bad at eating, I look up to see Rita, her huge eyes shining with tears.

"Ashley I'm so sorry."

Placing my bowl down onto the bedside table, I look away and sigh, trying to exhale the anger and betrayal. Trying to remind myself that it was her mother who rejected me, not her.

She could've done more. You two have identical bikes from when you were smaller. She let you go.

"Ashley-"

"Just don't, yeah? I need a bit of time, and I don't particularly want to talk to you right now," I mutter, my voice suddenly very croaky again. My throat constricts on it's own will, while my eyes burn. A pang of regret shoots through me, I don't want to punish her for how her mother was. Or to release my pent up frustration with my own 'parents' on her either.

I look back up, as she lets her curly brown hair fall in front of her face as she hunches her shoulder forward. She nods, quiet as ever, and moves off her perch on the bed and towards the door, almost trying to curl into herself and disappear.

She deserves it.

No she doesn't.

"Rita wait."

She stops and turns to look at me, full of expectations. I sigh and rub my hands over my face and round my head, feeling the mess of curls my hair is. Be the better person, Ashley.

"I'm not mad at you, nor do I hate you. It wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you for it, and I don't want to fight with you," I pause momentarily. "I'm sorry."

Her smile lights up the room. In a flash her arms wrap around me and the momentum pushes me on to the bed. Holding me tight, she whispers into my ear, "I love you so much, I so sorry, Ashley. Thank you."

I rub her back, feeling the burden being lifted off my chest. It's easier to forgive and forget than hold a grudge, in the end holding one is to your own detriment than anyone else's.

I clear my throat, and tap Rita's back, before gasping out, "I can't breathe, let go."

Immediately the overwhelming pressure crushing me is lifted, as she backs away from me sheepishly.

"Sorry," she mutters.

I yawn and then grin, "It's alright, don't be. Anyways, I'm still sleepy, so-"

"Yeah, alright, I'll make a move then. Do you know you're going to be discharged? I'll come pick you up then, you can stay at mine," she beams.

Her words stop me mid stretch. That, and the fact that the cuts concealed by bandages hurt when I did that.

I scratch my head, looks like I've got to come clean now, "Um, hears the thing. I can't really stay at yours."

He face falls, "Ashley no, its nothing like that, you can stay over. My mum was just overthinking as per usual, but-"

"It's nothing to do with that," I wave my hand, effectively cutting her off. "I'm, well, I'm kind of, well, staying over at Ethan's?" I cringe, gritting my teeth together in anticipation while waiting for her reaction.

I watch in tense silence as her mouth, almost comically, forms the shape of an 'O'. She blinks a number of times in rapid succession before stuttering, "What?"

I try to sink further back into my pillow, and nod in response.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

I fiddle with my fingers, "It just happened so fast, and I didn't have the time to tell you, and I thought it was just for one night but it wasn't and-"

"Did you sleep with him?"

My eyes widen, and my ability to speak coherently escapes me, "God no, oh my, no. Why would- well I mean we slept in the same bed but that's about it, we didn't. He's just a friend."

A friend that kissed you.

"So nothing serious?"

Come clean, Ashley.

But that'll require so much explaining. I'm too tired.

I'll tell her later.

"Nothing serious," I echo.

She sighs, "Well alright then. I'm not done talking to you about this, but you need to rest, so I'm going to make a move. Have fun dealing with the bad boy, and you sure as hell better not end up pregnant. Bye, I'll see you later."

I call out 'bye' as she walks out the door, which falls on deaf ears.

I breathe a sigh of relief, and turn to my side, willing to fall asleep once more.

However that desire was stopped short just as I started to slumber once more.  Ethan walks in, and with no consideration for my sleepy self, announces, "I've just had an argument with the doctors and they've finally allowed you to be set free. Let's go home."

Um, if he had to argue to get you out of here, I don't think you're ready to go...

Why is this guy taking full responsibility for me.

I mean it is nice and all, but I don't think we should be leaving.

I open my eyes partially, and grumble, "Are you sure we can't stay here a little longer to make sure I'm okay?"

He rips the itchy blanket off of me, "Yes."

"Ethan I still feel really weak, let's stay."

"No, I want to leave."

I glare up at him, "Why are you so eager to leave? Have some patience and wait till I take a nap and can stand on my own two feet again. I am not going to move from this spot till then, so bugger off."

He pauses, "I don't like hospitals. Let's go."

"Nothing's going to happen to you, Ethan. I'm going to bed."

I close my eyes again, only to open them again in surprise and gasp as I feel myself being lifted off the bed.

Why the actual fuck is he carrying you bridal style.

"Put me down, Ethan!" I yell, flailing around. What is this blasphemy.

"Nope," he scowls as I slap him in the face. "You better not fucking hit me again, or I'll drop you."

I hit him again.

He scowls down at me, clenching his jawline, "On second thought, if you hit me I'll keep going to the car."

Groaning I give up, and tuck my head into his chest, trying to hide my face from all the looks his antics were getting us.

How immature.

I just keep still like that, and marvel at the strength the guy must have to be able to carry me all the way from my hospital room to his car.

Come off it, everyone knows he's crazy strong.

Entering the car park, Ethan finally places me on my feet and digs into his pockets for the car keys, and unlocks the car. Opening the car door, he gestures for me to get in, before closing it and getting into the driver's seat himself.

How chivalrous.

I roll my eyes, I'm not falling for it. Also, I can open my own doors.

Looking down at my hands, I close them into tight fists and then splay them. I wince as I feel the cuts stretch.

On second thought, it's good he opened the door for me.

Ethan reaches across me, giving me the opportunity to sniff in the scent of his cologne, and grasps my seatbelt, tying it for me.

I look at him, perplexed. This guy is overwhelmingly different from the person I've made him out to be in school.

He looks up at me, after starting the engine, "What's wrong?"

I blink, "Nothing. Let's go."

What a mess.